


I Don't Want to Just Be Fine

by Suneater (Gryn)



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Post-Tartarus (Percy Jackson), Profanity, hints of PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-19
Updated: 2016-11-19
Packaged: 2018-08-31 20:43:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8592877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gryn/pseuds/Suneater
Summary: Life as a daughter of Aphrodite and a son of Jupiter is never an easy thing, and with the weight of two camps on their shoulders cracks were bound to form. A year after the Giant War Piper and Jason made the choice to end things, hoping to find themselves and their place in the growing demigod world. Over the last four years they have grown apart, slowly drifting in the directions their duties and pontifex and head counselor have taken them, but Piper tells herself she’s moved past her feelings for the son of Jupiter. She’s earned a degree, started to mend her relationship with her father, and helped rebuild her camp and its campers. When a new project brings Jason back to Camp Half-Blood that’s challenged. Piper has to decide if she’s really as over Jason or the war as she tells everyone she is. Suddenly things aren’t as clear as they seemed to be and she’s not sure where either of them stand or what the Fates have in store for them.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is a jasiper centric fic for the pjo/hoo big bang. Come by and visit me on tumblr at son-of-rome! Shout out to bananannabeth for being my beta and dealing with my horrible procrastination!

Every flat surface seems to be covered in stacks of organized papers, drawings and notes and lists tacked to the walls next to pictures of temple ruins. The clutter and mess drags back the smell of old paper and brownies, the feeling of California heat and sweat prickled skin, and long days spent sitting on the edge of another desk like this one. The memories slip back to her, little things that find their way back after so long. They aren’t much in themselves, the taste of salt from In-N-Out fries and the Pacific ocean, dust covered sandals, wind whipping at her hair, the echo of laughter off stone, but together they pull her into something she’d forgotten. Something she’d hoped she’d lost the details of.

Despite the fine coat of dust that clings to the less used surfaces, to the edges of framed photos on the wall and the spines of the books on their shelves, the room still smells of fresh air. That, more than anything else, pulls at her. Piper breaths in, sinking her into a place between dejavu and nostalgia. This isn’t the same room but somehow, in a way she can’t manage to grasp, this is the same place from all those years ago.

She reaches out a hand, running her fingertips across the pages closest to her. Tight, hastily scribbled notes in a nearly perfect column flow down the page. Each is little more than a phrase or term, each likely an aspect he’ll want to capture in stone and fresco to appease whatever god the building will represent. Without really reading she skims the list. The words coming and going without settling into solid understanding until she reaches the bottom of the lists and the single word scratched onto the page.

A flower of panic blooms in her chest between the too quick beating of her heart, the same thorny plant that rooted itself in her in the months after the war. The same fear she’s spent the last five years chasing away. Her fingers curl into a fist, her jaw setting and teeth pressed to teeth. Piper drops her chin, throat tightening as she swallows and stares at her own name at the end of the list.

“Piper?”

Piper jumps, the sound of her name from his lips too clear to be something she pulled up from memory, too definite to be something she conjured up. A handful of papers shift, topple, slide to the floor in her wake and she drops to a crouch to pick them up.

Something screams at her that this can’t be how it happens, how they are forced back into each other’s lives, not with another first meeting like this. She grabs at papers, hastily pushing them into a stack and pointedly keeping her eyes on the floor in front of her. As she reaches for another paper a hand presses down on it first, pinning it to the well worn floor boards.

Reluctantly she glances up, breath shifting to a hiss as she catches his eyes and the final pieces of those memories come back to her. Fries stolen from his fingers as they sit on the beach, their sandals in a pile while they spend a few stolen moments away from everyone else, her arms wrapped around his shoulders while he lifts her away, another dorky pun that he laughs at in the way he does when he finds her cute.

Piper stares into the eyes of the boy she fell in love with, the boy she changed the world with, the boy she walked away from five years ago.

“Hi,” says, voice soft and edged with exhaustion.

“Hi,” she says back, unsure and unsteady.

They stay there like that, neither moving or speaking. Piper drinks in the sight of him, taking in the sharp cut of his jaw, the way his shoulders have somehow filled out even more, the subtle stubble on his face, the first fine lines around his eyes. The years have been good to him, unfairly so.

It’s Jason that stands first, holding out his hand to help her up.

“Thanks,” she says, her hand brushing over his callouses.

“Sorry I scared you.” He reaches out and takes the stack of papers from her.

“It’s- it’s fine,” she lies. “I just didn’t hear you.”

He nods, setting the papers to the side and slipping his hands into the back pockets of his jeans. Piper ignores how his shirt pulls across his chest and the lines of his arms.

Another minute of silence passes between them, another minute where Piper relives the year they spent together on the other side of the country. When the memories become too much she tries to break the silence.

“So Annabeth said you needed-”

“How have you-”

They both stop. The words lost between them.

“You were saying,” Jason gestures for her to continue with her statement before he spoke up.

“I’ve been fine,” she tells him with a gentle smile. “How have you been?” Instinct tells her to squeeze his arm, to so easily slip back into what things were.

“Good. I’ve been good,” he nods to emphasize his point.

That silence settles over them again, somehow being the norm that exists between them and only sporadically broken by bits of conversation they force. Though their last four years apart weren’t much more than this, conversations that tapered off as the time spent between them grew and grew.

“Seems you’ve been busy,” she waves a hand at the room behind her.

“Y-yeah,” Jason swallows. “Annabeth already had a head start on me and I had to hit the ground running.”

“I’m a little surprised you’ve been able to keep up with her at all. She’s only been dreaming about this since she was, what, twelve?”

Jason chuckles, a warm, rough sound that slips under her skin and electrifies her nerves.

“I’m surprised myself,” he admits. “She’s a bit intense at times actually.”

Piper smiles at the honesty in his voice, at the way his eyes drop, and the slight shake in his head.

“She’s always been intense,” Piper corrects.

Jason grins, “Okay, more intense than usual then. But I guess that comes with building an entire city.”

“Speaking of,” Piper says, hoping to keep the conversation going, to keep the silence at bay. “I was told you needed to see me about something?”

“Right, yeah,” Jason pulls his hands from his pockets and steps forward, closing the distance between them until his scent is there, fresh air and thunder and a warm breeze.

There’s an awkward shuffle as Piper tries to step around him at the same time he tries to step around her, only to end up in one another’s path again. It takes his hand on her hip catching her and directing her to the side to untangle their steps. The touch is quick and innocent and nothing but she still burns with it.

“I wanted to have you look over some things before we get started on the temple for your mom,” he shuffles through papers as he talks, searching for something in particular. “I had some notes of things to consider. Little things I think she’d want included…”

Piper glances down at the paper they left on the floor, the only one they hadn’t picked up from the stack she’d knocked over. Quietly she grabs the paper and flips it over, scanning the words on the paper and finding her name again.

“Is this…” Piper holds out the paper, her eyes avoiding the words written on it.

“Oh, yeah.” Jason reaches out to take the paper and stops, his hand pulling back towards him slowly. “Uh, so-” he clears his throat, eyes locked on the paper- “if you could just let me know what you think.”

“You’re the Pontifex Maximus, this is literally your job isn’t it?” Piper eyes him, a flutter in her stomach unsure what the paper, and her name on it, really means.

“I, uh, don’t really want to piss off your mom,” Jason chuckles nervously.

“That’s understandable.” Piper keeps her eyes on the paper, not wanting to look up at him, not wanting to know why he’s afraid of her mother. “Can I have some time to look over this?”

“Yeah-” Jason drops his hand and steps back- “of course. Just let me know soon,” he says nervously. “Annabeth is going to be asking for these any minute.” He gives her a shy smile.

Piper smiles back at him, ignoring the bubbling in her stomach and the sweat on her palms.

“Tomorrow then,” Piper says definitely, realizing she’s signed herself up to see him again.

“Tomorrow,” Jason repeats. “Uh, Piper,” his voice drops, the rumble of his voice burning into her. “It’s good to see you.”

There’s a hesitant moment where his eyes search her, more words waiting to be said.

“I’m sorry I didn’t reach out sooner,” he says it like a confession.

“It’s okay, Jason,” Piper gives him a grin. “Annabeth may have a city to build but you have to answer to Annabeth.”

Jason laughs, a full fledged laugh that flips her stomach and makes her heart thunder.

“I guess I do.”

* * *

 

Annabeth doesn’t move as Piper flops onto her bunk, doesn’t even bother to look up from her laptop. Piper reaches past Annabeth to tug the pillow out from behind her friend’s back. Unsurprisingly Annabeth still doesn’t move, body hunched over the laptop in front of her. Piper holds it over her face, screaming into it until her breath gives out.

“I’m screwed,” Piper says through the pillow.

“That’s nice,” Annabeth responds, still clicking away.

“Annabeth, I know you’re busy, but I swear to the gods if don’t take one minute to listen I’ll release a dozen spiders in your new apartment.” The threat has its intended effect and the blonde snaps her head up to glare at Piper. “I’m. Screwed.” Piper repeats.

Annabeth takes a deep breath, pushing the laptop to the side and leaning forward.

“You knew this had to happen. You’re lucky you managed to avoid him for a month.” Annabeth plucks the pillow from Piper’s hands and drops it back onto her face.

“I hoped I could have managed the rest of my life,” Piper mumbles, shoving the pillow off of her face.

“Piper, it’s been five years. You haven’t even been talking the last four,” Annabeth says with a touch know-it-all as she points out the facts. “Besides, I thought you had moved past him,” Annabeth says softly.

“I thought I had too,” Piper nearly shouts, pushing the heels of her hands into her eyes. “I know we agreed to this, I know– I know we needed to figure things out but-” Piper groans.

“You have been figuring things out, Pipes,” Annabeth pulls Piper’s hands from her face. “What did Jason want anyways?”

“For me to look over some stuff for my mom’s temple,” Piper gestures to the paper she’d brought with her.

“So you’re going to look over those today right?”

Piper grabs the paper and crumples it up, chucking it at Annabeth’s head.

“Okay, okay,” Annabeth says, leaning away from her.

“Seriously, Annabeth, what am I going to do?” Piper eyes her friend, hoping for some words from Wisdom’s daughter.

“You want to know the truth?” Annabeth’s face drops, a crease forming between her eyebrows. “I don’t know,” the words are forced out of her.

Piper can see it, written in the lines on Annabeth's face, in the hallowed depth of her eyes, in the shift and twitch of her fingers over the keys. Piper can see the shadow that haunts her friend, the one she carried out of hell with her.

There are nights when the memory of pulling them from the ruins and carrying them back to the ship still burns away a night of sleep, leaving behind a morning of bleary eyes and jumpy nerves. The weight of survivor's guilt was a heavy thing to free herself from, but to learn to breath again– let alone forget– after everything Annabeth has been through is something else entirely. Even after six years Piper can see the wounds that haven't closed, the stain they can never seem to clean themselves of.

“I wish I had the answers for you, that it was that simple, but– but trying to get myself this far, trying to get me and Percy this far–” Annabeth takes a deep breath– “it was more difficult than I thought.”

“You did it though,” Piper says gently, hand reaching out to take Annabeth's. “Or you almost have. And New Athens, it will make sure others won't have to face the same things you did.”

Annabeth smiles, small and pained and bitter. “Honestly, I didn't do it for anyone else. I know it's going to help others, and that's great, but– but I don't care. I'm building this for Percy, for myself. For us.”

The words are empty, echoing in the deserted cabin.

* * *

 

Jason’s shoulders look as if they have a weight on them, something that presses down until his perfect military posture is slumped and distorted. He reaches a hand up, using his thumb and finger to rub his eyes. The action pushes his glasses up his face and sets them at an angle. Piper finds it hard to imagine him as everyone else must see him, as a soldier and a son of Jupiter– not a boy that loses his glasses too often or forgets his tea until it’s cold.

There’s still a conflict there, an image of him that lays over what she knows to be true which never sits right. There are too many times his posture is too rigid, too formal, too much the soldier that he was and too little of the boy– man– that he is. That image of him makes it easy to see him as others want to, something powerful and dangerous and intimidating. It’s harder to accept that mirage when she’s seen him miss the punchline to jokes and stroked his hair while he slept on her chest.

Piper blinks, shakes her head, and presses her mouth into a tight line. As much as the Jason that everyone sees isn’t real, neither is the Jason she remembers, the Jason that was her’s. She can’t be sure she’s not seeing something that’s not there either, imagining another idea of him that’s so easy to paint over who he really is. Four years of silence between them turns to a weight in her stomach and the taste of ash in her mouth. Given other choices, it’s more than likely she would know exactly who this Jason is, never wondering where legacy ends and reality begins.

She can’t be sure how long she’s spent standing in the doorway of his improvised office, watching him silently while he scans through pages of gods knows what. Piper glances down the hallway in either direction, looking for prying eyes and smirks that accuse her of things that make her skin warm. Hesitantly she takes a single step into the room, waiting for him to react as if another two feet might make the difference in him noticing her watching. When he fails to give any sign that he’s realized she’s there Piper takes another step into the room, and another, until she’s close enough she could reach out and run her hand over his shoulder if she wanted.

It would be so easy to stay here, to watch him. There are so many times she’s done it before, four years hasn’t diminished the ease of falling into the routine of being close, being with him. Piper can feel herself slipping into it, feel the tingle in her fingers that tells her to brush them against him, to have him close to her. A fraction of her wonders if it would be the same, if feeling his fingers laced with hers would be just as it used to be.

The noise she makes clearing her throat is too loud, too abrupt, but in the choice between it and giving into her wonder she decides she made the right choice. Jason spins, nearly clearing half of the desk off, staring at her with wide eyes.

“Piper,” his voice is a deep rumble, frustratingly layered with tiredness and roughness.

This does nothing to help with her attempts to focus on the conversation, neither does the way his hair is haphazardly disheveled, obvious strands sticking out where they ran between his fingers. For whatever reason he stands, letting her run her eyes over the length of him. Piper takes in the handful of wrinkles in his shirt, the uneven slant to the hem as if he’s pulled at it, the way his jeans must sit just below his hip bones. The combined effect of a tousled Jason is enough to blow away the thoughts of temples and designs, of frescos and fountains, and replace them with the images of her fingers running through his hair, over his shoulders and arms, her cheek pressed between his shoulderblades to listen to the thrum of his heart.

Her stomach drops, the feeling creating a sudden sense of deja vu. This is not the reason she came to see Jason, but the ideas, the images, are there all the same. They batter against her and as much as she reaches to stay grounded she loses herself in them, in the idea of having him as her’s again.

“Have you taken a look at the ideas?” His voice is there, she hears it, but she doesn’t process it.

Her mind works through the details, building the story that pieces it all back together, filling in the little details with what she can remember, with what she dreams could be. She stands in a room with her ex and imagines something that’s nothing and at the same time far too intimate.

“Piper?”

She slides back into the room, into the conversation.

“Yeah,” she thrusts out the paper. “They look good. Added a few comments, though.” Piper snaps off the words, each statement clipped, short, narrowed to just what it needs to be.

There is no room for anything extra between them, she can’t let there be.

“Okay, yeah. Great.” Jason takes the paper from her, holding it lightly between his fingers as he looks it over.

The silence that spans between them crawls under her skin, dragging back the memories of the first conversations after everything, after they realized they looked at one another to find themselves. Her muscles push to act, to do something, to break the wall that has been stacked brick by brick, one for every day of silence that was built between them. There’s nothing to do though, nothing to turn to in hopes of finding an easy out, no quest or prophecy or danger to carry them out of dead waters.

“Sorry if that held you up,” Piper nods towards the paper in his hand, tucking her thumbs into her back pockets.

“No,” he says too quickly, too forcefully. “I have plenty of other things to get done if I want to keep Annabeth happy,” he laughs softly at his own joke, a course chuckle that sends a rush through her arms and down her back.

“Probably a smart move,” Piper throws in.

Jason nods, setting down the paper on the desk amongst all the others.

“What about you, what have you been up to? I mean other than…” he gestures at the paper he’s just put down.

“Not a lot,” she shrugs. “Running the Cabin, was helping prep for New Athens.” Piper chews the inside of her lip, the words of the next sentence teetering on the edge of her lips. “I’ve been taking some online classes, working towards something in Psychology.”

“Really?” he asks excitedly. “Piper that’s– that’s great.”

She tells herself it’s embarrassment that makes the heat rise in her face, not the way he says the words or the enthusiasm he doesn’t bother to try and hide. There’s a part of her that also expects more, that waits for him to rush in and give her a hug, to press her to his chest and beam down at her.

The expectation unsettles her, breaks the spell of the moment and casts a pall of introspective shadow over her. Those aren’t things she tells herself she should expect of him, of a person she can only loosely describe as a friend. That’s something she would have expected of him then.

It’s that realization that sets everything in focus, the thing that finally brings back the name she’s been hunting for to the face she recognized. What she expects of Jason is what she had, what they had. All of it makes sense when she views the ideas and images through the filter of someone that gets more, deserves more, not the filter of who she is to him.

Piper is left torn between the two parts of herself, the one that still sees him as hers and the one that sees him as what she used to have. Sense tells her that it’s been five years, expecting what they had is well beyond reasonable reach. Emotion tells her that their interactions were this, were more, and that there have been too few times between the end and now for her to have adjusted. She has not broken herself of him.

“Thanks,” she forces out too late after a pause that has stolen the flow of their words. “What about you? I mean other than…” she gestures at the stacks of papers around him.

“More of this really,” he laughs nervously at himself. “And school. Though I’m glad that’s over.”

“Really? I would have expected you to live up your college years,” she teases. “Maybe finally give into your inner frat boy, live with Percy, eat pizza out of frisbees.”

Jason smiles and her fingers warm.

“College wasn’t bad, just… being back there I guess. Especially without–” his words end abruptly. “I got tired of it. The pressure to be Pontifex Maximus, the son of Jupiter, the ex-Praetor.” He looks down at his desk, hand rubbing against his side. “It’s nice to be away from there for a bit.”

“You think there’s any less attention here? You’re building a new city for the Greeks, you’re still a son of the Big Three, and you’re Roman. No offense but you stick out like a giant intimidating thumb.”

Jason huffs out a rushed laugh, fingers reaching out to skim over a handful of papers.

“I’m pretty sure people still remember me as the guy that blurted out that you were cute at the campfire.” There’s humor in his voice but the words still pull the breath from her.

Piper swallows, the weight of the tension from his statement making the air almost too heavy to breath.

“I think you’d be surprised,” she tells him.

A world of words sits between them, hundreds of conversations they could have, dozens they should, and even more they’re trying to avoid. The first on that list is the one about what he’s just said, about how easily he can manage to bring up the past like nothing has happened, like they haven’t spent the last five years avoiding anything that would point to the history they’ve shared.

Five years is all it seems to take to separate him enough from those things to bring him to a point where he can more than pretend those moments affect him.

“I’ve got some other things to do,” Piper says, taking a step backwards towards the doorway.

“Yeah,” he says quickly. “I’ll see you around though?”

The question stops her, the look in his eyes of hopefulness and open honesty only pushing the shards of his previous statement deeper.

“Yeah. I’ll see you around.”

* * *

 

In a matter of hours, when the camp is once again alive with a hundred campers living out a normal day the training arena will be a hum of activity. The noise of blades and armor and curses will echo off the stone walls while Percy supervises the next generation of demigods train. For now though, it’s Piper that watches Percy as he swings Riptide in wide arcs and quick jabs. The Romans left more than a brand on his skin, they left an edge on him that’s hard to miss when you know what you’re looking for. It’s there in the steadiness of his arm as he jabs, the stiffness of his spine as he moves, the sharpness to his swing. The last few months of training with Jason have only honed that edge, brought it back with a new shine to it. Annabeth was right to demand to come back, to leave New Rome far behind and build something here. That edge, the hardness fits Percy worse than it fits Jason.

“Finally showing back up to practice?” Percy shouts to her without stopping his practice.

“Wasn’t really a point without Annabeth around was there? I mean who else is going to teach me anything?”

“Real funny McLean.” Percy sticks his tongue out at her.

“Tell me Annabeth can’t kick your butt up and down the Sound.”

Percy stays silent, face tight as he mulls things over.

“Guess I have a weakness for blondes,” Percy admits with a shrug and a hint of his trouble maker smile.

“Don’t we both,” Piper blurts.

Percy doesn’t say anything but his eyebrow lifts, his sword slowing for a second while he looks at her. Piper chooses to ignore any evidence that she might have slipped up and moves forward.  

She steps onto the sand floor of the arena, fingers tightening around the sword in her hand. The first time she’d come to train with Percy they’d just come back from a quest that had nearly taken their lives, that had nearly ended the world. She’d wound up at the arena one morning holding the sword she’d taken, looking to learn how to handle the new weapon and found Percy learning not to be a weapon.

The first few weeks had been hard, learning to fight, learning to talk to Percy, learning to let him heal while she learned how to use her power to help. Slowly the mornings became less tense, filled with more small talk and then laughter, slowly she’d used her powers less and Percy had smiled more. When he’d left for New Rome she’d been left to fend for herself, to train with other instructors that didn’t need to be coaxed through a sudden fit of anger, but also never challenged her like Percy did.

Having both of them back had been having the ground steady beneath her, and Piper had realized how much she’d leaned on Percy as well as Annabeth.

“So, any reason why you chose today to come back to training?”

“I just gave myself some time off,” Piper says flatly.

“Time off that happened to start the same time a certain Roman showed up?”

Piper clamps her jaw shut, teeth aching as she holds back her words.

“Figured,” Percy mutters.

“Back off!” Piper snaps. “Alright? Just give me a break.”

“What did I do?” Percy asks defensively, taking a step back from her.

Piper nearly drops her sword and walks off.

“Why does everyone think they can interject on my love life? Last time I checked _I_ was the daughter of Aphrodite.”

“Maybe because you keep running from him instead of figuring things out.”

“Like you ran to New Rome?” The anger burns through her for a second before regret extinguishes it. “Percy I’m– ”

“Completely right. I ran, Piper. I ran because I thought it would be easier but it wasn’t. I missed my family, my friends, my home. I ran and I could have stayed there but I fought, Annabeth fought, and now we’re building New Athens. We’re going to have a home, my kids can–” Percy stops, shaking his head and and squeezing his eyes closed. “I know you’re not looking for advice but… maybe you should stop running.”

Piper’s voice, her words, are gone. She can’t take back what she said to Percy, the anger she let seep out into them, or how things happened, but she doesn’t have to let the silence live between them.

“The point was to figure things out, to find ourselves but I didn’t.” Frustration claws at her words. “You know what I did? Nothing. It’s been years and I’ve done nothing because the truth is I have no idea what I’m doing.”

Piper drops her sword and sits, letting her legs sprawl out in front of her.

“All I’ve managed to figure out is that I’ve figured out _nothing_. And he’s still Pontifex Maximus, he’s still the son of Jupiter, he’s still Jason. I’ve taken a few college classes and he’s been building temples and appeasing gods and I can’t even keep my own cabin happy.” Piper lets out a frustrated laugh. “Gods I’m so screwed.”

“Piper, we’re the kids of gods, of course we’re screwed,” Percy says dropping to the ground beside her. “And your mom is the goddess of love, you’re super screwed.”

“I don’t know what Annabeth sees in you,” Piper deadpans, thankful that she has a reason to move the conversation somewhere safer.

“My rockin’ bod?”

“You’re disgusting,” Piper yelps and kicks at him. “Hey Perce?”

“Sup.”

“Don’t tell Jason about this okay? I just– I need a little more time, but you’re right, I’ve gotta stop running.”

“No problem, as long as you don’t tell Annabeth I admitted she could kick my butt.”

“You think she doesn’t already know that.”

“Oh she knows it, she just doesn’t need to know I admitted it.”

Piper doesn’t try to suppress the snort of laughter, letting it instead melt away some of the weight she feels in her chest.

“And I think you’ve built things up too much in your head. I was at New Rome with Jason, it was different than you think,” Percy’s voice is low and serious.

“What do you mean?” Piper turns towards him, fingers worrying at the ragged hem of her camp shirt.

“It’s just… it’s not my place to really say but being the golden boy all the time isn’t possible. Even Jason struggles with stuff.”

“Yeah,” Piper says wistfully. “But that doesn’t mean I want to face him right now.”

“We’ll you’ve done a great job of avoiding him so far–” Percy’s statement is cut off with a muffled grunt as Piper manages to connect her heel with his hip.

“Go jump in the ocean,” she says over Percy’s breathy laughter.

 

* * *

 

“This is ridiculous,” Annabeth grumbles, shoulder shoving against Piper as they walk. “I can’t believe you’re making me do this.”

“Making you go outside and spend time with your friends and boyfriend, yeah, I’m just the worst.” Piper deadpans her comment, attention fixed on the growing crowd of campers ahead of them.

“What in Hades is going on now?” Annabeth groans, picking up her pace to stomp off ahead of Piper. “I swear, if Percy had anything to do with this…”

The threat is left open ended but Piper is sure Annabeth can find a suitable finish to if if she needs to. Piper hurries along behind her friend, scanning the group of campers that bunch around four figures in the center. One of them stands a head taller than most of the others and Piper pieces together Annabeth’s frustration. They’re still a few yards out when she can finally make out the heated conversation that’s grabbed everyone’s attention.

“He’s on our team!” Sherman shouts at the two girls standing in front of him.

“Is not!” they shout back in unison.

“Guys, I- I don’t even think I’m allowed to play. Isn’t that against the rules or something?”

“Is too!” Sherman yells.

“Is not!” the girls counter.

“What’s going on here?” Annabeth demands, making her way through the crowd of campers that part before her.

All three kids and her boyfriend turn to face her, each with varying expressions. The Victor twins grin at Annabeth, Sherman glares in frustration, and Percy smiles nervously as if he’s not sure she’ll yell or hug him.

“Fine, Annabeth is on our team,” Laurel says triumphantly.

“What?” Sherman hollars. “How come you get Annabeth?”

“Athena cabin is on our team, Annabeth is part of Athena cabin, so Annabeth is on our team,” Holly says with a toothy grin.

Sherman glances between Annabeth and Percy before glancing at Piper.

“Then Piper is on our team,” he says proudly.

“Wait what?” Piper blurts.

“Aphrodite cabin is on our team, Piper is part-”

“I get that, but why are we playing?”

“Because we want to win!” The twins shout the response in tandem.

“And it’ll be more fun this way,” Sherman adds.

“Except the teams are uneven,” Holly points out.

“Yeah, you can’t have _two_ members of The Seven,” Laurel argues.

“Sorry things didn’t work out in your favor.” Sherman crosses his arms over his chest, a smile of victory already plastered on his face.

The strange sensation of a familiar set of eyes watching her pulls Piper’s attention from the group and to the area around her. It’s easy to pick him out amidst the campers half his height. She catches him looking at her, his course suddenly changing as his eyes tear away from her.

“Jason could play,” Percy offers and five sets of eyes snap to him.

Piper glares at him for his comment, for dragging Jason into this after their last conversation, for going along with any of this. Annabeth stares at him with a cool intensity that would make stone shiver, partly in solidarity with Piper and partly because he’s going along with any of this. The twins beam up at him for handing them what they undoubtedly see as an ace up the sleeve, and Sherman glares at him like he wishes he could shove Percy’s head in a toilet.

“What now?” Jason asks.

“So you guys get Jason _and_ Annabeth, while we only get Percy and Piper?” Sherman says her name like it’s left a bad taste in her mouth.

“Piper has saved all of us at one point, including bringing me back to life. I think you should be a little more grateful she’s on your team.” Jason’s words cut through the air, humbling the look on Sherman’s face.

She turns to look at Jason who’s still giving the younger camper an icy glare. A response like that isn’t exactly unexpected from one of her friends, and if it had been Jason whom Sherman had made the comment about she would have responded the same way. The way Jason had said her name though, like it had been his to say, makes her watch him, makes the weight in her chest that appeared that first day shift a little lower.

“Fine,” Sherman mumbles, eyes pointedly avoiding all of them.

“Let’s go!” Holly demands. “We have a game to win.”

“You mean _I_ have a game to win,” Laurel counters.

“You couldn’t even win a race to our starting area.”

The twins eye each other for a second before they take off sprinting, shoving and elbowing each other to get into the lead. The four older campers and Sherman are left standing in the middle of camp, the crowd of onlookers slowly trickling away.

“We need to get ready,” Annabeth says a little too sourly. “See you out there.” She grabs Jason’s arm and hauls him away, leading him towards the forest.

Jason gives Piper a small smile but she keeps her face blank, still chewing on his comment to Sherman and how quickly he jumped to her defense.

“Guess we should come up with a plan.” Percy turns to face Sherman.

“I already have one. You and Piper attack straight up the middle,” Sherman says seriously.

“Isn’t that a little… obvious?”

“Exactly, and while you deal with the blondes I take a group in a flanking maneuver and capture the flag.” Sherman gives the plan with the confidence of a general in the field.

“If you think that’ll work,” Percy says with a shrug, tossing Piper a worried glance.

Piper manages to not roll her eyes at them as she heads off to get her armor and sword.

Sometimes she has to marvel at Percy’s ability to get himself, and his friends, into situations like this. Any other Friday she’d be helping Chiron ref the capture-the-flag game, not be part of it. Percy’s just that kind of guy though, with just that kind of luck, and unfortunately for Piper her best friend is dating him. So she’s left sprinting through the forest in full armor, eyes snapping to every rustle and whisper the forest makes. Somewhere out there is her ex-boyfriend. An ex she’s avoided the last four years, an ex who’s come crashing back into her life, an ex that manages to drag up something buried a long time ago.

Percy jogs ahead of her, Riptide out and ready. The drum of her heart matches the time of her pace, each step echoed by the pounding in her chest. The forest swallows the sound of them and returns the faint drift of leaves rustling wind sighing. Piper estimates the flag can't be much further ahead, which means so is the other team. She notices Percy slowing and matches her pace to his, eyes flicking to the shadows around them.

“Why are we slowing down?” She asks just loud enough for him to hear.

“Because we're about to be ambushed.”

Before Piper can respond something bursts from the bushes to their right and launches at Percy. He lets out a muffled grunt as the mass of armor and curls slams into him. Percy ends up on his back with a bone sword pressed to his chest while gray eyes glint down at him.

“Seaweed Brain,” Annabeth says in greeting.

“I'll accept your surrender,” Percy says calmly.

“And why am I surrendering?”

“We have you outnumbered.” Percy jerks his head toward Piper and suddenly it's her they're gleaming at.

“McLean,” Annabeth says coolly.

Piper swallows past the dry itch in her throat, keeping her eyes locked in her friend. As distasteful as she finds using her power, there isn't a chance Annabeth will go easy on her even if she chooses not to use charmspeak.

“Don't think about it,” Annabeth growls, piecing Piper's plan together.

Piper grins, feeling the burn in her chest and lightness of her tongue.

“Don't-”

“Why Ionic pillars?” The words are easy, sliding off her tongue with the weight of feather but they hit like a hammer.

Annabeth clamps her mouth shut, teeth clacking. The struggle of it flashes in her eyes, the fight to keep from talking, from pouring out every little detail she knows. Using architecture against Annabeth is a low blow, but not low enough for Piper to feel bad.

There's a second where Annabeth's attention is too focused on fighting the charmspeak, just long enough for Percy to find his opening. They roll, Percy trying to use his weight while Annabeth struggles to regain the upper hand. Piper doesn't wait to see the outcome, she bolts. With Annabeth preoccupied they have their best shot at getting the flag.

The forest rushes around her, trees and branches and leaves whipping past. She aims for where she'd put the flag, as far back into the forest as possible. After minutes of running she spots it, a red triangular flag hanging from a branch. Everything reeks of ambush but Piper doesn't slow down, figuring the worst that could happen is she gets ambushed again.

The flag is just ahead of her, only a few yards away when the tree bursts into blinding light and a shower of sparks. In a second it's gone, leaving behind the smell of burnt wood and ozone. The bark smolders and crackles in some places. Piper feels the electricity on her skin, the hairs on her arms seeming to shiver.

She spins, fingers tight around the hilt of her sword, looking for the gleam of gold amidst the green. Jason steps out of the forest to her left, appearing between the trees with the soft crunch of drying leaves and the sudden rush of wind. Jason’s armor seems to burn in the soft light that manages to filter through the forest, the gold of his armor, of his sword, drinking in the light and letting it seep back out.

Piper reminds herself that his armor is heavy, his sword is shorter, meant for stabbing not swinging, and that he doesn’t have a shield. She also remembers that he’s as strong a swordsman– and a demigod– as any this camp has ever seen. The afternoons spent watching him train or spent training with him light a tension that burns in the muscles at her neck and back.

It’s Piper that lunges first, sword swinging for his leg in an attempt that she’s accepted will be swatted away before she’s even moved, but she makes it because it’s her best– only– shot at not letting him get on the offensive. She swings again, higher this time, bringing the sword up as she puts all the power she can muster into it. Jason steps away, letting the blade swing by him before he steps away from another swing, and another. He’s aiming to tier her out and Piper can already feel the pull in her muscles, in a minute the weight of the blade will be too much and he’ll close on her like a wolf for its kill so she changes her attacks. Her swings turn to thrusts, the tip of her blade diving for his legs and arms, something soft that will hurt or slow but not kill, she only needs enough time to grab the flag and run back.   

The momentum of the fight changes as easily as the wind, pushing against her back one second and throwing her off balance the next. A desperate jab leaves her open, exposed, arm too far from her body, hips towards him and feet too far apart, giving Jason all he needs to parry and counterattack. His blade slides against hers, metal ringing out as gold and bronze grate against each other. She has to leap to avoid the thrust but she clears it by a foot, his arm never extending the full length. From there she stays on her back foot, step after step in the wrong direction, away from her goal. Jason keeps up his speed, keeps her moving, never gives her a chance to breath let alone get her balance and push back at him.

Her heel catches a root, stopping her mid step as Jason’s blade rushes towards her stomach. Piper braces, waiting for the blow to send her reeling, to slam into her and drive the wind from her lungs and leave her gasping. Instead a hand shoots out, grabbing the front of her armor at her neck to pull her forward to keep her feet under her. Piper stares up at him, at the electric eyes that watch her patiently, at the boy that she can’t seem to run from. At the boy she hopes won’t get the wrong idea from what she’s about do.

“You know you used to sweep me off my feet,” Piper almost hums the words, watching them settle over him.

Jason’s face flushes, eyes darting away from her.

“Thanks by the way, for not skewering me.”

“You’re welcome,” he says breathily, eyes drifting back to her. “You okay?”

Jason’s gaze burns into her, the air heavy between them with more than the adrenaline from their sparring match.

“I’m fine now.” She bats her eyes at him, drawing out another few seconds before anything has to be said, before she has to do something she’s bound to regret.

“Piper I...” he stops, letting a pause build that fuels a dread growing in her stomach.

“Jason,” she says before he can say anything else. “I’m sorry about this.”

She swings her sword, bringing the flat of the blade down against his knee at the same time she shoves away his grip on her. Jason drops, his knee giving out under him as he lets out a string of curses. Piper doesn’t bother to sort through the Latin she’d picked up from him, making a run for it instead, heading directly for the flag. She doesn’t stop even after she has it, or as the branches and brush scrape against her. She doesn’t stop until she feels the splash of water and nearly falls into the stream dividing the two sides of the forest.

The horn blows signaling the end of the game, that she has won, and she feels the laughter build inside her until she can’t help but let it out. Piper finally feels the scream of her muscles, of the strain of defending herself against Jason and sprinting across half the forest.

It’s Sherman that finds her first, followed by a horde of other campers all crowding around her and cheering. Over the top of their heads she sees Percy grinning at her, his arm draped over Annabeth’s shoulders even as she grumbles about something. Piper can’t be sure but she almost makes out the words Jason, let, and scored. It’s only when Annabeth shoots a glare in his direction that Piper notices Jason watching. She expects a frown, or a grimace, or maybe even that stupid I’m-proud-of-you smile, not the stomach dropping look of need he stares at her with. Jason’s last, unfinished words come back to her and whatever they are, they aren’t something that Piper is sure she wants to hear.

She presses the flag into Sherman’s hands, leaving the campers to revel in their victory and Jason’s gaze to haunt her.

 

* * *

 

“You’re up bright and early,” Percy says, his own voice thick with sleep.

“Ha,” Piper scoffs, dropping onto the dining table across from him. “Funny coming from Mr. Sunshine.”

“I thought you were supposed to be a beauty queen.”

Piper throws a punch that’s only half hearted since the other half of her is still exhausted and tormented by the words Jason did– and didn’t– say to her yesterday. Every time Piper had tried to close her eyes she’d seen the look he’d given her at the end of the game, heard the words he’d started and she’d never given him a chance to finish.

“So why _are_ you awake?” Percy gives her a gentle punch back.

“Because I’m pretty sure my mother enjoys torturing me.”

“Fun stuff. You could join me and run from camp.” Percy gives her a knowing grin.

“Sounds good to me,” Piper says seriously.

“I– I was just–”

“And I’m not. Don’t tell me you can’t use backup, the buddy system and all that.” Piper leans across the table, resolve settling into her bones.

“The buddy system?”

“Let me go with you or I’ll tell Annabeth about the aquarium at the mall.”

Percy’s eyes narrow, the green glinting at her.

“Deal.”

“What are we doing?”

“Meeting up with Grover, he found another demigod and we need to pick them up.”

“Sounds good to me.” Piper pushes herself up from the table, spinning to head back to her bunk.

“Where are you going?” Percy calls after her.

“To get my sword, even when you’re not involved in some trouble, you’re involved in some trouble.”

 

* * *

 

The steps at her feet blur and haze with every aching pulse of pain that shoots from her shoulder into her ribs and across her back. Her stomach rolls, the bites of ambrosia she managed to force down slowly seeping into her system and making her skin boil. It’s hard to keep track of the number of times she’s methodically chewed the life sustaining food, willing to take the taste of blood over fries and sea salt. The heat only adds to the shifting of her vision, the feeling that she’s trapped underwater, the rush in her ears the sound of her body slowly filling with liquid fire.

Piper leans her head against the porch railing, wishing away the the pain and the heat and the sound of her heart pounding in her head. Wishing everything would just be still for one second.

The pounding of feet on the path shatters the last bit of hope that she’s going to be able to drift off. Gravel scrapes as someone slides to a stop just in front of her, Piper barely able to hear the heavy breaths they gulp down. She cracks her eyes, expecting to see another camper here to find out about Percy or a healer eager to lend their help. Instead she finds electric blue eyes searching her, his lips pressed into a firm line as he scrutinizes her.

“Percy’s in there,” she says with a jerk of her head in the direction of the door, the motion making her wince. “They’ve already given him ambrosia and he’ll be okay.” She eases her eyes back closed, leaning into the railing, even as the wood presses into her skin.

“Percy?” Jason asks, his voice quiet.

“Yeah,” she huffs.

The heat of the ambrosia still pulls at her, dries her throat and lips until they chap and stick together. She wants to sleep, to have Jason rush off to check on Percy so she can be alone.

Piper is too tired to feel any tingle in her nerves, in too much pain to notice any tumble in her stomach, too lost in the exhaustion to care that he’s here. That he’s the reason she fled from camp.

“He was hurt too?”

Piper’s eyes slowly slide open to squint at him. It takes her a second to focus through the haze but she zeros in on him. It’s the little things she notices first, the lack of glasses, the beads of sweat on his neck, the twitch of his fingers at his side. This isn’t the composed son of Jupiter, the leader either camp expects him to be. This is her Jason– or the one that used to be hers– who was never as neat and proper as you’d expect.

“You didn’t know?” she asks the question slowly, watching his response.

“I knew you’d both gone out, but they said you had blood on you…” His eyes drop to the stain at the tear on her shirt.

“Most of it is Percy’s. I think– “ she shakes her head. “It doesn’t matter. We’re back and we’re fine.”

“Are you?” His hand reaches out, thumb running along her chin and for a second she leans into it before jolting away.

“What do you mean?” The words are full of empty bite.

“Pipes–” he takes a step towards her and she wants to push away, not ready to face him– ”you’re covered in sweat and blood. Have you even seen a healer?”

“I said I’m fine,” she snaps.

The little strength she has goes into pushing herself off the steps and pointedly around him.

“Piper!” he calls after her, reaching out to steady her as she takes hesitant, shaking steps.

Piper manages to avoid him, taking another quick step to the side and down the path. She can hear him just a step behind her and she grits her teeth, pushing everything into heading for her cabin, the lake, anywhere but here.

She manages to make it several more steps before she stumbles, foot catching under her and her knees giving out. Piper braces to feel the bite of gravel in her knees and the sting of rock scraping into flesh. Arms catch her though, pulling her back against something solid as they tighten around her waist.

“Damn it, Piper,” she hears him mutter as she sags against him, caving under the pain and heat and exhaustion.

An arm shifts, releasing her for a second before her legs are swept out from under her, Jason shifting to carry her weight better.

At first she thinks they’re flying, but she can hear the soft crunch of dirt under shoes and there’s little more than a soft breeze washing over them.

Piper expects him to take her to her bunk, to hear her siblings chattering as he carries her in, the pungent smell of a dozen perfumes and colognes greeting her. He only hesitates a second as he stops to open the cabin door, shoving it open with his shoulder and swinging it shut with his foot. It’s not perfume of flowers or even herbs she smells, it’s clean air and ozone and the scent of a thunderstorm.

Jason shifts again, easing her forward and lowering her. For a second she panics, clinging to his shirt and pressing her head into him.

“Pipes,” he says and that's all it takes, she trusts him and loosens her grip.

The bunk is soft and clean and cool, most of all it’s quiet. The pounding and the pain finally, _finally_ easing away. Mercifully she’s able to slip off to sleep.

Piper twists, pulling the pilot to burying her face and blotting out the light pouring into room. The world returns to darkness, Piper letting out a little sigh and settling into the softness of the bed. She fills her lungs with a long, slow breath, letting out a hum at the end. There's something about the smell that pulls at her, a sliver of her mind that eases into it, a comfort that feels so familiar.

It takes her sleep addled mind a minute to connect it together. Fitting the smell with the memories of rushing wind, summer mornings, and a gentle, warm touch. Then it rushes back to her, a name that cracks like lightning in her mind.

Piper bolts upright, vision hazy, head swimming. She notes the silence of the cabin, the feel of the blankets that have pooled in her lap, the weight that pushes down the mattress at her feet. A few quick blinks and her vision sharpens, the sleep drained from her body and filled with a sharpness to her movements. He's sitting at the end of the bed, back pressed against the wall and head lulled back. Even when he sleeps there's something serious to him, a sharpness to his features that makes him a presence.

Her stomach lurches, skin prickling at how close he is, how close he’s been all night. She’s in his cabin, in his bunk, laying next to him. Jason should have put her in her own bunk, in her own cabin, should have taken her to a healer or to the big house. Any number of things except carry her back to his bunk. Because anything else would have made sense, anything else would have been understandable, because a friend would make sure she’s safe, that she’s okay, but this, _this_ isn’t something that a friend does.

She can’t forget that the reason she left camp is Jason, is this thing that’s not supposed to be between them but it, is because of what she’s feeling right now. Her stomach starts to roll, the thrumming in her ears turning into a roar. The cabin air is cool but her skin burns, her fists clutching at the blankets in her lap.

Their conversations over the past weeks come back to her, the moments that lingered between them, the nervousness, the looks, the small touches, every bit of it culminating into this burning in her stomach that seeps into her nerves and thoughts and dreams.

Piper yanks her feet away from him, ripping the sheets off of her legs and throwing them at him. In a quick motion she swings her legs off the bed and stands, heart pounding in her chest. She doesn’t stop as she reaches the door, doesn’t even hesitate when she hears him fall off of his bunk or call after her. She rips the door open, then slams it back closed behind her.

It’s too early for campers to be awake, dew still clinging to the grass and the morning air still carrying a deceiving chill that will turn to a skin burning heat. Piper stops a path across the grass between the cabins, sucking in deep breaths, fists clenched and nails biting into skin.

A cabin door swings open behind her, a voice shattering she silence.

“Piper!” Jason’s voice cracks as he calls out for her, eyes wide. Piper keeps her focus on her cabin, on the ground directly in front of her, and not on the burning in her eyes. She makes it to her cabin door, pushing it open and turning to close it. Jason stares at her across the space between the cabins, his eyes locked on her.

Piper’s hand clenches on the door, fingers pressed into the wood and trembling. Jason’s hand reaches for her, his mouth opens, ready to say something but Piper never hears it. She slams the door closed, turning to face the the wide eyes and knowing smiles of her siblings. Piper closes her eyes, ready to scream and needing another week of sleep.

Piper sits, legs curled to her chest, chin pressed to her knees, arms wrapped tight around herself and watches the ocean break against the beach in a constant easy pattern. Every breath smells of salt and sand and sweat. It reminds her of laughing, of Percy, of Annabeth, of the fourth of July, and being part of something. It reminds her of anything except Jason, but she can still taste his name on her lips, still feel his touch on her skin.

Somehow there isn’t a part of this camp that doesn’t remind her of him in some way. There isn’t a part of her life that he hasn’t immersed himself into. When the city is built it will only be worse, he will live in every building and temple, every archway and stone. Piper imagines a future where she is doomed to live in the shadow of the boy she can’t seem to get away from, it seems destined that because he was there the day she was brought here he will be there the day she finally leaves.

Sand crunches beside her, followed by the soft thump of someone dropping to sit beside her. Piper catches the smell of lemons and parchment, her shoulder drop, arms loosening around her legs.

“So,” Annabeth says gently, “you and Jason had–” There’s a moment of hesitation where Annabeth weighs her words carefully– “an interesting night.”

Piper groans, dropping her chin to press her forehead into her knees.

“Does the whole camp know?”

“You slammed two doors and stomped across the camp. It’s kind of hard for them not to know,” Annabeth says softly, almost regretfully.

“Tell me I’m not completely fucked,” Piper whines.

“You’re not fucked,” Annabeth tells her, reaching out her arm to wrap around Piper’s shoulders.

“I am though!” Piper shouts hoarsely. “I’m beyond fucked. Five years Annabeth, five years and I have no idea what I’m doing.” Piper’s voice is layered in exhaustion, exasperation, desperation. “I was supposed to be over him, I was supposed to have things figured out.”

Piper can’t ignore the weight in her chest, the taste that clings to her throat and burns like acid. She tells herself this is what realizing the truth feels like, that this is what facing up to the truth is like. It feels like trying to build a house out of sand and watching the tide roll back in to wash it all away.

“Five years,” she laughs sourly. “Five years and I’ve managed _nothing_.”

“Do you really think that’s true?”

“If it wasn’t would I be here? Would I be sitting here trying to avoid the same boy that I broke my heart over? That I keep breaking my heart over?” An edge of franticness slips into her voice.

“What have you done in the last five years. Tell me.”

“Nothing!” Piper shouts, voice cracking.

“That’s not true,” Annabeth’s voice is firm.

“Annabeth-”

“You made me stop once and listen to my emotions, not just hide them away. Now I’m going to return the favor. Take a breath and tell me. Tell me what you’ve done in the last five years. Tell me everything you’ve achieved.”

“Annabeth-”

“Piper–” Annabeth pulls Piper into her side, pressing her forehead into Piper’s temple. “Deep breath.”

Piper bites down on her tongue, feeling the teeth dig into the side of her cheek as the words pressed against the back of her teeth. She takes a slow, stuttering breath in and releases it slowly.

“I graduated high school,” Piper whispers.

“Good,” Annabeth assures her.

“I- I helped camp rebuild after the war.” Piper’s voice grows as she speaks.

Annabeth doesn’t say anything this time, but the weight of anticipation sits between them.

“I was lead counselor of my cabin. We even won a few games of capture the flag. I brought campers back. Some of them safely.” Annabeth huffs out an un-amused breath against her cheek. “I managed to not die.” That earns her a quick laugh. “I rebuilt a relationship with my dad. Or at least started to.” The words come easier to her now. “I kept in touch with my friends. I made new ones. I- I managed to deal with Leo leaving, with him coming back.” Piper swallows past the lump in her throat. “I’ve almost got my AA.”

“You what?” Annabeth jerks back from Piper.

“I started classes when I was still in California. I have no idea what I’ll do with it but– _oof_ ” Piper is cut off by her friend practically tackling her with a hug.

“Haven’t done anything my ass,” Annabeth mutters.

“I just… I don’t feel like I’ve actually made it very far,” Piper admits.

Annabeth shifts beside her, turning to face the ocean and curl her toes into the sand. “I still have nightmares about Tartarus,” Annabeth says the words slowly, as if they are fragile, dangerous things. “I wake up sweating, terrified, thinking I’m still down there.”

“Annabeth you should have told me.” Piper reaches out this time, curling her fingers around her friend’s shoulder.

“Admit that it’s been six years and I’m still not over it?”

“You were in _Tartarus_ , Annabeth. No one expects you to be fine in a few years.”

“And no one expects you to have things figured out,” Annabeth counters, eyes flicking to burn cooly into Piper. “But here we both are.”

Piper shrinks, ducking her chin, eyes shifting away to watch the morning tide pull away.

“So what do we do?”

“I have a city to build and you, you have a certain idiot to talk to.”

“Can’t you do it for me?” Piper groans.

“I’ve already tried, besides, I have my own idiot to deal with.”

Piper lets out a slow, pent up and frustrated sigh, matching her breathing to the pace of the waves thundering against the sand.

“We’ll be okay,” Piper says, likely as much for herself as for Annabeth.

“Of course we will,” Annabeth says, voice her usual confident and prideful self. “Daughters of Athena are never wrong.”

* * *

 

It’s dusk by the time Piper’s stomach doesn’t feel as if it’s in freefall, before her nerves have seemingly burned themselves out, before she can swallow her nervousness and force herself to stand in front of his cabin.

She can feel the gazes at her back, the eyes that have been watching her since the day Jason arrived, they eyes that will never stop watching her until she settles all of this. Piper pulls in a steadying breath, one that fills her with enough courage to reach her hand out to shove open the Cabin door. It’s a desperate move to try and keep her momentum, to convince herself she’s confident and will find answers.

Piper has her palm pressed to the door when it swings open, her push only meeting empty air.

“Piper?” He says her name too easily still, too full and careful and weighed. “What are you doing here?”

“What are we?” She steps forwards as she speaks, lifting her head too look up at him, to meet his eyes.

“What are we?” he repeats, eyes widening as she shuffles back a half step. “Pipes I don’t understand. We’re friends.”

_Friends_. Even the way he says it is a lie.

“I can’t–” Piper clings to her words, reminding herself she has a voice, that it is her strength– “I can’t do this anymore, Jason.”

“Can’t do what?” he asks, his voice too soft, too caring, too much of exactly what she can’t handle.

“ _This_ . I can’t take _this_ –” she waves her hands between them, frantically trying to grasp at the feelings twisting between them– “what's going on between us.”

“Piper I–” he shakes his head, squinting at the space between them– “I don’t know–”

“No,” she says firmly, stopping him before he can quietly avoid her, placate her, try and smooth things over so easily. “You have to know. What are we?”

She takes another step towards him, refusing to let him shift way, to carry on this act another day. Jason swallows, his hand reaching up to rake his fingers through his hair.

“I told you, Pipes. We’re friends.”

“Friends?” Piper spits the question out, the word sour on her tongue. “ _Friends_. Because I’m friends with Percy and he doesn’t look at me the way that you do. I’m friends with Annabeth and she doesn’t say my name like you do. I’m friends with a lot of people, Jason, but this–” she gestures to the air between them– “doesn’t exist between me and them.”

“Piper we–”

“Friends don’t say the things you’ve said about me, and not the way you’ve said them. Friends don’t sweep someone away and put them in their bunk, they don’t look at each other as if they can’t breath without them,” Piper’s voice drops but she forces to keep her eyes on his as she says the next words. “They don’t make me feel like this. A friend wouldn’t feel the way I do about you.” She takes another step towards him until there’s nearly no room left between them.

“I’m tired of this, Jason. I’m tired of not knowing what to do, of being stuck because of some choice we made five years ago. And I’m so tired of waking up every day just being okay, just surviving. I don’t want to just be fine, Jason, I want to be happy.”

Piper won’t let him get away this time, won’t let another five years go by without answers. So she waits for him to speak, for him to decide where he stands, because she’s made her choice but she won’t be alone in this.

“Piper, this is…” he takes a deep breath.

“This was the point of all of this wasn’t it?” Piper interjects. “To find ourselves, to figure out who we are, what we want.”

“I don’t know who I am,” Jason says darkly. “I thought I did. I thought going back to New Rome, putting myself into my work would give me something but… it hasn’t. I’m still not the Roman that the Romans want me to be, I’m not the Greek the Greeks want me to be. I’m not my work, I’m not a soldier anymore I’m… I’m not anything.” His face is hard, the burning light in his eyes darkening into a storm that rages inside of him.

Piper watches the muscles in his jaw flex, the lines in his brow deepen. Jason’s eyes stay fixed somewhere below Piper’s gaze, lost in another world.

“Then what do you want, Jason?”

“You.” There is no hesitation, no question or doubt in the resolution of that single word. “We were supposed to figure out who we were and what we were doing but all I figured out was that I wanted you. “All I wanted when I was in New Rome was someone to share it with, someone that I didn’t have to be Pontifex or Praetor for. And the only person I’ve ever had like that was you.”

Piper presses her head to his chest, unwilling to show him the smile that splits her face until her cheeks hurt and skin burns with a blush that could rival his.

“Do… do you want me?”

When she looks up any thought of sarcasm or teasing is wiped away by the look in his eyes. The way he looked at her after Capture the Flag, after finding her on those porch steps, after she stormed out of his cabin is nothing compared to this. Five years of want, of need, of missing her is all etched into his face with a depth Piper will never be able to erase. The only thing she can do is hope that they haven’t been for nothing, and to kiss him.

Piper tugs him down to her, savoring the feel of his lips, the warmth of his hands on her hips, the touch of him that’s haunted her all those years. They let the kiss linger, doing their best to make up for the moments they never got and the ones they let pass, only pulling away when they are breathless and full.

“You know there’s still a lot we have to work out,” Piper mutters into his lips.

“There’s always going to be things to figure out. I just want to figure them out with you.”

Piper’s smile reappears and she tucks herself into the crook of his neck, finally enjoying the smell of a warm breeze.

“So what do we do now?” Jason’s voice rumbles in her ears.

“We start figuring things out.”


End file.
